Gunslinger. Angi Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ trunk. Her ex-husband’s name hadn’t been said in front of her for almost four years. She wanted to run. Hide.

      Bryce watched her reaction. He saw it all. She knew what the fright looked like and she hadn’t hidden it. The look on his face confirmed for her that he knew he’d found the right person. She couldn’t deny it. Well, she could, but it wouldn’t do her any good. He wouldn’t believe her.

      “Are you a cop?”

      He shook his head, squinted, then rubbed the back of his neck as if he was mad for being right. An odd reaction from someone who had completely wrecked her life.

      She looked at the serving tray and the ceramic outdoor table it sat on. Neither would cross over to her new life. Whatever that ended up being. Just the things that fit inside two suitcases. Nothing more. Not even the laptop. She couldn’t borrow a car. He’d just follow.

      Everything stayed here.

      The escape plan was in place. The cash was in a box under the bathroom sink along with a passible ID. All she had to do was fake whatever Mr. Unbelievable standing in front of her wanted.

      “If you worked for Xander, I’d already be dead. So who are you?” All the excitement of finally having the courage to face Bryce sort of evaporated along with any moisture in the heated air.

      “Bryce Johnson. I’m a Texas Ranger here to help you.”

      “Help me right out of my comfortable home and life you mean.” She picked up the tea glasses, along with the tray. Another wave of sadness crashed into her heart at the thought of leaving. “It was that silly picture for the online article, wasn’t it?”

      He nodded. “And your eyes. You changed the color but not the vitality that’s there.”

      “Strange words from a man who probably just got me killed.” She walked across the porch, the lock heavy in her pocket. The urge to run to the fence and secure the gate made her stop before opening the door. Bryce was following and paused on the steps.

      “We can help you, if you allow us to.”

      “I told the police, and anyone else who would listen, everything that happened that night.” The nightmare images forced her to stare at a pure drop of water sliding down the empty glass. If she shut her eyes or even blinked, she’d be transported back to the white gravel stained with blood.

      “Kylie.”

      Startled by the shock of his touch, she dropped the tray. One glass shattered and one rolled across the wooden porch. “Isn’t that weird? Ever wonder why sometimes they break and sometimes they don’t?”

      “All the time.” He knelt beside her to pick up the broken pieces. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

      “What did you expect when you announced that my ex could find me? Is he really looking again?”

      Their eyes met and held as he asked, “Again?”

      Nice eyes. Such a shame.

      Kylie mentally shook it off. None of the attraction was real. He was a flippin’ Texas Ranger and not the good-looking handyman across the street. He was here with sneaky ulterior motives. She stood, confused by all the emotions making her want to cry.

      Not in front of him, though. She would not cry until she was on a bus heading to the airport. No one cared if she cried on the bus.

      She carefully balanced the tray on the wooden porch rail and took a step toward the door. “Who was on the call you took and what did they say?”

      “Austin PD.”

      Her fingers wrapped around the screen door’s handle. “My case never made it to court. They assured me there was a lack of evidence. I have no idea what you’re referring to or why you’re here. So why don’t you just cut to the part where you’ve put my life in danger.”

      “Are you aware your father-in-law—”

      “Ex-father-in-law.”

      “Right. Look, Miss Jorgenson.”

      “Wrong again. My name is Kylie Scott. Sissy Jorgenson died with the first bullet. She doesn’t exist anymore.” She took advantage of Bryce’s awkward silence. He politely backed up to allow her to get inside and wedge the screen between them.

      A good hostess would open the screen farther and invite him into the kitchen. The hot July air was thick and getting hotter. A bead of sweat rolled across her skin and wedged between her breasts, squeezed together by her sports bra.

      Her voice and body might appear to be calm, but she was hyperaware of every second of panic she stopped from bubbling to the surface. Knees about to buckle, she wanted to run inside and leave the handsome Texas Ranger locked out on her stoop.

      Bryce took off his hat, getting closer to the screen. He raised his hand toward the handle, but changed his mind at the last minute.

      “I’m not sure what I can say. It was never my intention to use scare tactics to get you to listen to me. I wanted you to trust me before I had to tell you.”

      “That was never going to happen. I can’t—won’t—trust anyone like that again. You’re wasting your time. Not to mention the taxpayers’ dollars.” She let the screen shut but didn’t make a move to close the inner door. Why was she was putting off the inevitable?

      Maybe she didn’t want to leave. Or shoot, it really was because his concerned look crinkled the corner of his eyes. And he looked different without his glasses. Maybe that wasn’t concern and he just couldn’t focus.

      Whatever the reason, he’d taken his hat off and his hair had a cute little flip where his hat had rested. He was seriously adorable-looking—whether guys liked to be thought of that way or not. And yes, she didn’t want to shut the door in his face.

      “The gentlemanly thing for you to do is leave now.” She edged the door closed a little more.

      “You’re right. Leaving would be polite. But right now, I’m a Texas Ranger...not a gentleman.”

      The screen popped open and her reflexes moved her backward into the kitchen. He was through the door quickly, shutting it and turning the dead bolt. Once that was done he turned to her, hat in hand, bare-chested and terribly sunburned.

      “You’ll forgive me, Kylie. I’ve got my orders and I need to make sure you’re clear on a few facts.” He gestured to the small table in the corner. She joined him. “You see, someone—we assume Tenoreno—is actively looking for you. His father is in jail awaiting trial for murdering his mother.”

      “I heard. Don’t you think I keep up with them?”

      “What you might not know is that we think Xander doesn’t want his father cleared. He’s taking over the family business. He also knows that we’re building a case against him. You can help strengthen the state’s case.” He leaned forward on his knees, slowly spinning that silly straw hat brim through his fingers.

      “No. No. No. A thousand times no. I don’t have any evidence to help you. Don’t you think I tried that before the divorce? If I could have blackmailed him for my freedom, СКАЧАТЬ